


So It Goes

by geneeste



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AKA, Angst, Damien Darhk - Freeform, F/M, Felicity whumping, Fic amnesty, Found Families, Gen, Humor, Island of Misfit Toys, OTA, One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts, Original Team Arrow, Other, Pregnancy, Season/Series 05, Speculation, Wedding Fluff, figure skating AU, mild violence, miscellaneous, or something approximating humor, season 5 speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for shorts, one-shots, and Tumblr prompts.<br/>15. tumblr prompt (humor): This is how Oliver dies - not from a sword, or a lucky bullet, or one of his own arrows, but from mortification.<br/>16. Twitter fic: Oliver lifted Felicity, intending to move smoothly into their next pose, when he saw that a corner of what he now realized was cover tape had ripped off, revealing a tantalizing view of black, swirly ink high on the inside of her thigh. He very nearly steered them into a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. surely it's a sign (that you were right)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it’s almost over, she and Oliver lay in bed quietly, listening to each other’s breathing.

When it’s almost over, she and Oliver lay in bed quietly, listening to each other’s breathing.

His heart beats steadily under her ear, and she smiles at the goosebumps her fingers leave behind on his skin as they glide over his arm. Outside their room, doors are opening and closing, and there’s a murmur of men’s voices as they get ready for the day.

She tries to memorize the rise of his chest, the weight of his hand stroking her hair. His shadow as he rose over her, the scruff of his beard under her lips. She’ll remember how her throat aches now, the pressure in her chest, so why can’t she have the rest?

Footsteps stop on the other side of the door, and a sharp knock sounds in the silence. 

Oliver tightens his hold around her. “Felicity,” his says, voice hoarse and low.

She gets up on an elbow, strokes his eyebrow and down his cheek, watches as he closes his eyes over tears. “I know you, Oliver. I know who you are,” she says around her own tears. “You did the best you could.”

There’s more knocking, louder and longer this time, and a man calling something in a language she doesn’t understand. It startles her, and she swings to look at the door. When she turns back Oliver has gripped her hand, pressed it against his face.

“I have to go,” he says, eyes open and piercing, and she feels it all over.

“I know.” She leans down and kisses him, a slow and sweet kiss, one that she can keep with her when he goes. “I love you.”

Then she moves away, out of Oliver’s hold and the constant pull of his warmth. She thinks it will be easier if she leaves first.

(It isn’t.)


	2. we're on our way through rugged land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since Felicity last called that he's honestly surprised to wake up to her message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime after the finale. Diggle and Felicity, not communicating (until they do). Title taken from "Stay Gold" by First Aid Kit.

"Hey Dig, it's me. Felicity. Which I’m sure you know, you know what my voice sounds like." There's a beat when she's silent, and Diggle can hear the sounds of a market or mall in the background. "We're still traveling, I just thought I'd check in while we're stopped." There's silence again, and he can tell that's she's struggling, her sigh replacing her usual verbosity. "That's it, I guess. Give Lyla and Sara a kiss for me. Bye."

Diggle deletes the message.

* * *

"Dig, it's me. Again. I, uh…we're in Seattle. It's a pretty city, very techy. Not unlike Starling, actually. Which, you know, not sure why we came here if we're trying to get away from- just, never mind. It's not important. How's Sara? Is she running circles around you yet? Lyla sent me pictures of you guys in the park - she's getting so big. I miss her. I miss you. Give me a call, okay? Bye."

Diggle feels a twinge of guilt when he shuts his phone off (but he does it anyway).

* * *

Diggle is hauling groceries into their apartment - some staples, more organic applesauce than any one baby could ever eat, and several squashes Lyla swears she can turn into spaghetti - when his phone rings. By the time the bags are on the table and his phone is out of his pocket, Felicity has already hung up and the little voicemail icon is glaring at him from the top of the screen.

When he plays the message, the first thing he hears is wind rushing past a microphone, followed by Felicity's voice. "Hey." More wind, almost a whistle, and Diggle starts to feel something, something he can't identify. It's not discomfort, but it's getting close. "It's hot here. Did you know Wyoming had high-altitude deserts? I didn't know that, yet here it is."

This time the sound of her blowing out a breath breaks over the sound of the desert. "Oliver's up the trail, Diggle, he can't hear me. He doesn't know I'm calling you, if that's what you're worried about."

If Diggle knew what he was worried about, maybe he could answer her calls.

* * *

It's been so long since Felicity last called that he's honestly surprised to wake up to her message. He frowns when he sees the timestamp - _11:22pm_.

"John." The muscles in his back tense up instinctively. She sounds…wrong.

"Don't worry, Oliver's not here. He's out. He's out doing…him-things. Alone. He's out doing things alone and I know he'll be back so it's fine." Diggle has to close his eyes because it's clearly not fine. He wonders if Felicity will ever watch Oliver walk through a door and not be afraid he's never coming back.

"I know you're angry with Oliver, John, and you should be. Don't stop being angry with him. But what did _I_ do? I love you too, you know." There's a sickening turn in his stomach at that, at the way her voices rises and strains around the words, and he recognizes that feeling he didn't want to acknowledge before: shame. Shame at punishing her for her proximity to Oliver, for letting his rage and fear bleed over into indecision. But hasn't that always been his problem?

He scrubs a hand over his head as she continues, voice thick. "I've been thinking about the way it was before. Before…everything. When no one was dead and we were just starting," her words are starting to slur a bit, like she's been drinking. "Do you ever think about when it was just the three of us?"

He does.

* * *

"Hi Felicity. I'm not sure where you are now, just hope you're doing okay." He takes a deep breath, and thinks about the night they all had dinner together, everyone sitting around his table like the family they were (everyone but Oliver).

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I think about it, about all of us, too. We'll be that way again." He can't quite bring himself to include Oliver, to say his name and feel that rush of helplessness. "You should talk to him, make sure he knows where your head's at. Or you can talk to me. I'll be here, I promise. I love you too, Felicity."


	3. not my day job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She takes in the scene: several bad guys spread throughout the large room, and there in the middle, on the floor mixed in with the employees of the company they'd been trying to infiltrate, is her big dumb helpless team. Looking big and dumb and helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silliness ahead. Set somewhere in a nebulous universe where everyone is together and happy and everything is perfect in the exact way I want them to be. Ahem. If I admit that I just wanted to dream up a situation in which Felicity gets to do this, will you guys hold it against me? XD

Felicity adjusts the leather across her chest with one more tug (one very ineffectual, uncomfortable tug), takes a deep breath, and steps quietly over the guy she'd just tazed to get into the hallway. She moves just enough to see into the room ahead.

Ignoring the loud litany of _ohgodohgodgodohgod_ in her head, she takes in the scene: several bad guys spread throughout the large room, and there in the middle, on the floor mixed in with the employees of the company they'd been trying to infiltrate, is her big dumb helpless team. Looking big and dumb and helpless.

As it turns out, heroes who are going undercover as their normal alter-egos are not terribly helpful during hostage situations in which they themselves are the hostages.

Go figure.

All she needs to do is distract the bad guys, long enough for her program to take over the high-tech systems controlling the building to allow for a sufficient amount of chaos to ensue for Oliver and the others to spring into action while she and Diggle dismantle the bomb the bad guys have planted. Two minutes. All she needs is two minutes.

_Oh god, we're all gonna die. Ohgodohgodohgod._

Swinging the bo staff in a manner that she hopes looks graceful and controlled, she makes the loudest, stupidest, most conspicuous entrance possible. It works: the black-clad bad guy closest to the door starts to turn quickly, and seizing the opportunity to seem intimidating, she hits him in the back of the head with a sucker blow and sends him to the floor.

She thinks _holy shit I can't believe that worked_ but instead channels Laurel, and in an only slightly shaky voice, says: "Hello boys."

Oliver's blanching face, Diggle's huge eyes, and Laurel's surprised but approving smirk - it would all be really satisfying if not for the whole pretending-be-a-vigilante-so-the-building-doesn't-blow-up thing.

You know, if not for that.

There's a moment when everything just stops. She looks at the four bad guys left in the room, and they look back at her. She must be a sight; Laurel is taller and leaner than Felicity is, so squeezing herself into an outfit that was at once too small and too long for her had been a feat. Despite the peril involved in this situation, she still fears that her breasts will pop out from the leather corset she stuffed them in, or that the cuffs of the pants she had rolled up would fall past her heels and cause her to trip at the worst possible moment.

But then the moment ends - the bad guys get their wits back and make for her, so she does the only thing she can do: she runs.

Trying not to shriek or scream (which would totally ruin the vibe's she got going - even if she really, really wants to), she remembers her goals: distract the bad guys, move them away from the team, get closer to the bomb.

Being smaller has its advantages, namely she's fast and more able to dodge big burly men, but that only goes so far. So Felicity is particularly grateful and relieved when the lights go out and the sprinklers go off just as one of the bad guys' fingers grasp the shoulder of the Black Canary suit.

The cold of the water is a shock, and she finds that her boots just barely grip the slick floor, and not enough to get away from the man holding on to her shoulder. She realizes that if she can't see anything, he can't either, so she drops to the floor, dislodging his hand but also forcing her back into the tile, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

She rolls over immediately and begins to crawl away as fast as she can, ignoring her aching spine. Behind her, the chaos she'd hoped for is in full swing. She can hear screams and footfalls now, bodies knocking into each other in the darkness, and she hopes that it's a good cover for her three friends to take out the bad guys and come her way. A shot rings out, and she prays that no one has been hit or hurt badly.

" _Canary!_ " Oliver's voice, a little frantic and not nearly as close as she'd like. _Oh yeah_ , she thinks, _that's supposed to be me._ She just barely bites back his name, and yells instead, "There's a bomb! By the cabinets!"

The emergency lights kick in, but the sprinklers are still going off so the visibility in the room is terrible, and she's not wearing her glasses (they make poor substitutes for masks, and she hadn't exactly packed her contacts for this little excursion), so she makes her way in the direction she thinks she'd been going in before the bad guy stopped her.

Unfortunately, she doesn't quite make it. Someone (maybe the same guy as before?) grabs her arm and jerks her over onto her back, and the next thing Felicity registers is bright light exploding behind her eyes followed quickly by the feeling that something has left a gaping crater on the left side of her face.

There's weight on her legs when she instinctively tries to move away from whatever it was that made half her face cave in, and it's just as quickly gone, because there is Oliver - beautiful, blurry soaking wet Oliver, who else could it be with those shoulders - lifting a man right off his feet and then slamming him powerfully down into the floor.

She winces at the sight, and then has to hold back a cringe at the wincing because now her face is dented _and_ on fire, and just what the hell is going on and why is she wearing a leather catsuit in the shower?

Suddenly Oliver's face is close enough for her to make out clearly. His eyes are wild and dark, his fingers just a brush against her cheekbone, and she can't help but flinch at the pressure. His mouth tightens. "Felicity."

She's about to apologize for doing whatever she did that had made Oliver look so upset, when Diggle appears beside him. "Felicity, you said there was a bomb," he asks urgently, "Where is it?"

"Bomb? There's a bomb? Where's a bomb?" She replies, agitated, until her eyes land on the unconscious man Oliver had just assaulted. There on his tactical vest is a walkie-talkie - no, a wireless remote - and the events of the last few minutes all come rushing back to her.

"Oh. OH!" She jerks up and immediately regrets it as her stomach lurches.

"Easy, easy," Oliver says, hands sitting warmly against her upper arms. "No, I have to get up, it's over here, let me up." She stumbles - yep, still wearing crazy boots that are so much bigger when concussed - but Oliver's got an arm around her waist, half carrying her to the cabinets, where she had overheard the bad guys say they placed the device.

That's exactly where they find it, the perfect place on the perfect level for bringing down a skyscraper. Felicity may be riding her own Tilt-A-Whirl, but never let it be said that she can't throw up and guide a comrade in diffusing an IED.

When it's over (only moments later, but it feels like hours), and Laurel is reassuring Felicity that her nose is in fact still attached to her face while gently pressing Oliver's handkerchief into it (which would explain why the sprinkler water tasted so funny - not actually water), she watches Oliver transform from angry and worried vigilante into angry and worried boyfriend.

"What were you thinking, dressing up as Laurel? You could have been killed!" He's so tense, she's surprised he doesn't snap like one of his bowstrings pulled too tight.

For some reason, that makes her furious. "Me? What was I thinking? 'Hi, I'm Oliver, I'm going to break into this super shady new tech company that I know is dealing with really dangerous arms dealers, and I’m going to take all my crime-fighting buddies with me so no one can rescue me if I get caught. This is a great plan, what could possibly go wrong?'"

Her deep mocking voice would be so much more impressive if it weren't so nasal and muffled by the handkerchief, she thinks. Although she swears she hears Diggle snicker and say, 'I told you so.'

Laurel - not laughing, Felicity must be hallucinating that - looks pointedly at the door. "We only have a few minutes before SWAT gets up here, we need to leave." Oliver's eyes narrow at her, and she just knows he's grinding his teeth. She makes a mental note to remind him to schedule a dentist appoint later. "Fine. We'll go. But you are never doing this again."

She knows where that's coming from - probably from the part of Oliver still reeling from seeing her prone on ground after being pummeled by a bad guy - so she agrees with him out loud, promising to stick to the hack-and-monitor side of the family business.

But internally, she knows: if she had to save him, to save her family? She would do it all again, in a heartbeat.

(And it certainly doesn't have anything to do with the costume, which is totally ruined and not hidden somewhere in the back of their attic ready for Felicity to pull out and remember what it's like to be a real-life superhero.)


	4. Devil May Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity seemed to be playing it cool, and in profile looked like she was smiling. But he could tell - by the set of her shoulders and how her free hand was pressing into her stomach - that she was uncomfortable and growing more so by the minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short speculation scene following [this sneak peek](http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/live-feed/arrow-watch-olivers-intense-confrontation-841390?utm_source=twitter). I seem to be obsessed with this fundraiser.

Oliver returned from his hallway meeting with Darhk and immediately sought Diggle at the bar.

He was nursing a drink quietly when Oliver sidled up to him. “Guess who just cornered me about ‘working together’ on my campaign?” he asked lowly, signaling to the bartender for a drink.

Diggle glanced at him sideways, and then more fully as the implication set in. “No. Darhk, really?”

Oliver nodded tersely. “Really. It’s not completely unexpected, but I didn’t anticipate that he would make a move so publicly.”

Diggle was looking more alert, now standing up from his seat. “What did he say?”

Not trusting himself with anything stronger, Oliver accepted the champagne he was given and took a sip. “That he had connections in the city, and that I should reconsider our plans for the bay.”

Diggle snorted humorlessly. “Or else?”

“It was not-so-subtly implied, yes.”

It looked as though Diggle was about to reply when he suddenly stiffened, looking over Oliver’s shoulder. “Oliver,” he said tensely.

Oliver turned to follow his line of sight, and quickly found the source of Diggle’s worry. Because there, over by the buffet table, was Darhk - shaking Felicity’s hand.

Felicity seemed to be playing it cool, and in profile looked like she was smiling. But he could tell - by the set of her shoulders and how her free hand was pressing into her stomach - that she was uncomfortable and growing more so by the minute.

A bolt of alarm shot through his chest, and he started to move toward her before Diggle put a restraining hand on his arm. “Man, you can’t. We can’t let him know that we’re on to him. We can still see her, we have to stay here unless something changes.”

Oliver hated it - hated the thought of Felicity being on Darhk’s radar at all, although he knew there was nothing he could do about that now. He forced himself to look away and tried not to grind his teeth, repeating to himself that Diggle was right.

Darhk wouldn’t do anything to her in a room full of people. Right?

When he looked back, Darhk was just leaning in to kiss her cheek. He met Oliver’s eyes at the exact moment his lips touched her cheek, and then the bastard _grinned_.

Oliver’s stomach rolled. He’d received the message clearly - Darhk knew Felicity was leverage - but he knew he couldn’t respond as the Green Arrow would. With effort, he schooled his features and managed to just tip his head in acknowledgment.

“Easy,” Diggle murmured as Darhk finally let go of Felicity’s hand and moved away.

Through the crowd, he watched as Felicity took a steadying breath. As if she could feel his gaze, she turned and zeroed in on him, and gave him a tremulous smile. He knew she understood what had just happened - if not why - but her eyes were steely. She was fine.

That didn’t mean he was.

Oliver stayed where he was, knowing that he couldn’t go to her now, not so soon after both of their conversations with Darhk. Between these encounters, and the situation with Andy - Oliver felt as though the walls were closing in. They needed to come up with a solution for Darhk, and fast.

Beside him, Diggle released a long breath. “What are we going to do?”

Oliver very carefully set his champagne glass down onto the bar, forgotten until just now. He found Felicity again across the room, lingering on her to for comfort. 

“Whatever we have to.”


	5. Chips and Dip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She stopped mid-sentence, the bright-orange, dip-laden chip still held halfway to her mouth, which was now hanging open. “Oh, wait,” she said evenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s a silly little fic because reasons. Set any time in S4 up to the most recent ep. I feel like I should apologize for this. Sorry not sorry?
> 
> There is now a sequel to this fic, which can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5258777).

Diggle walked into the lair with a newspaper tucked under his arm and a thought to catch PTI on one of the machines Felicity had set up to record cable. 

The woman herself was camped out in front of a cluster of monitors, hammering away at a keyboard.

She looked up briefly and flashed a smile. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Well, Sara’s down for the night, Lyla kicked me out for a quiet night of bubble baths and red wine,” that earned him a grin, “and Oliver’s got that strategy meeting with Thea and Davis. He mentioned that you were going to be here catching up on surveillance, I thought I'd come in and keep you company.”

She smirked at him knowingly. “And clear out the two hours of ESPN you had me DVR for you?”

“If I get around to it,” Diggle hedged.

“Mm-hmm,” she responded as he rolled a chair over next to her.

He sat down happily, catching sight of a bag of chips and a jar of what looked like dip on the desk next to her keyboard. “What are you eating?”

She picked a chip and scooped some dip right out of the jar with it. “Doritos and french onion dip.”

Felicity shot him a sheepish look when his eyebrows climbed at her choice of snacks. “I know, it just looked so good in the store earlier. I mean, Oliver has had me eating healthier and I usually only crave junk food when I'm hacking or I'm horm”-

She stopped mid-sentence, the bright-orange, dip-laden chip still held halfway to her mouth, which was now hanging open. “Oh, wait,” she said evenly.

Diggle did his best, his absolute best, to keep his face neutral while she processed what had just occurred to her.

Suddenly she dropped the chip into the dip, wiped her fingers and a good bit of her lipstick off onto a napkin, and grabbed her purse.

“Watch my computers,” she commanded him as she hurried past him to the elevator. 

He settled back into his chair, unfolding his paper to the sports section. “The Rite Aid on 7th is closest,” he called after her nonchalantly. 

“Shut up,” was all he heard, the ‘up’ drawn out, before the doors closed.

\-----

A little over half an hour later, Felicity returned, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked stiffly back to her workstation.

She sat down without a word. 

Diggle waited as long as he could force himself before asking, carefully keeping his eyes on his newspaper. “So what's the verdict?”

There was a beat of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her glaring at the bag of Doritos. “I'm going to need you to stick around until Oliver comes down later so that you can catch him when we tell him. And then possibly drug him.”

He tried not to grin, he really did. “Felicity.”

“Not a huge dose, mind you, just enough to even him out.” She made a smoothing gesture with her hand, knocking it into the dip jar and making it teeter a bit.

Diggle reached over to calm her hand. “We've got this. Eat your snack.”

She side-eyed him for a moment, and then fished the chip out of the jar and did just that.


	6. bones keeping time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver doesn’t know what to say, or think - he’s stuck on moving air in and out of his lungs. (Post 4x09)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short post-4x09 fic. Title from Chris Pureka's "Hangman."

Oliver and Diggle sit, side by side, in a hallway just outside the double doors that led to the surgical suites.

They’d been there for about an hour, ever since Diggle had met him just as the medical team had disappeared with Felicity through the doors. It had been a terrible moment - Diggle had seen the blood on Oliver’s suit, and his face had gone slack with shock and disbelief, and neither feeling had left them since.

Oliver doesn’t know what to say, or think - he’s stuck on moving air in and out of his lungs. He’s stuck on not going back to those moments in the car and how he could have realized the danger sooner, moved faster, not have moved at all.

He’s stuck in a white hallway, looking at white walls, trying to imagine a crisp white shirt without her blood on it. If he can’t go back, then at least maybe time won’t move forward, and he can live with the curse of being stuck in this moment when she’s still alive.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, voice hoarse. He tries to look up, but then remembers that he doesn’t know how to move.

It feels like a long time before Diggle speaks. “I don’t either,” he replies, sounding terribly rattled. He clears his throat roughly. “Let’s just wait.”

His hand settles on Oliver’s shoulder, and they find silence again.

Oliver imagines a crisp white shirt and a different hand on his shoulder.

Oliver waits.


	7. the riot's gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s desperation in his voice, and it’s the closest she’s seen him come to crying since she first found out, even on the night she left. It’s just what she needs, and it’s too much. She’s never been a cruel person until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little angsty fic based on late-season spoilers. Poor darlings. This is also unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from Santigold's song of the same name.

She doesn’t know why she calls him.

She knows it’s selfish, and probably hurtful considering she was the one who left, the one who said it was over.

All she knows is that she’s in pain, emotionally and physically, and the crushing weight of being without him, of being truly alone for the first time since she was shot, is making her eyes burn and her chest heavy. Her shoulders shake under the oppressive silence in her suite.

When Oliver bursts through her bedroom door, out of breath like he’d run the whole way, she’s not surprised, but she is relieved. It’s then that she realizes just why she’d broken down, nearly a month out from forcing her heart away.

She’d needed to prove to herself that this connection hadn’t been a lie. That despite how it all ended, despite all the lies he’d told and that she’d let herself believe, he hadn’t lied about this.

Just about everything else.

It’s too late to hide her splotchy skin and red eyes, so she just takes a deep breath and wipes her nose. She can’t acknowledge how he visibly flinches at the sight. She picks a spot just underneath his chin, because she’s too sad and ashamed to look him in the eye.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” He approaches slowly, like he’s afraid of spooking her. There’s a key in his hand, and she should be shocked or annoyed that he has it, but she’s not. Of course he would know how to get to her - he always had. “What can I do?”

“You can go home,” she says. She pushes herself up the best she can from her position on her bed, where she’d been propped up for most the night and averts her eyes from his fallen face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this.”

He swallows, and he rubs a hand over his face. He hasn’t been shaving. “It’s okay, I...What do you need? I can do anything.”

Oh, how her back throbs and her throat aches. She just wants relief, and she could get it from him, but she also can’t. There’s nothing he can give her that she’ll trust. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “This isn’t fair to either of us. I won’t do this again, I promise.”

He sits tentatively on the bed next to her. “I don’t mind. I want you to- any reason you need me, I’ll come.”

There’s desperation in his voice, and it’s the closest she’s seen him come to crying since she first found out, even on the night she left. It’s just what she needs, and it’s too much. She’s never been a cruel person until now. “I know. I won’t call again.”

He looks away, like he’s trying to gather himself, and nods. “I’ll lock up on my way out,” he says softly, voice hoarse and face still turned away.

“Okay.” He rises from the bed, and her eyes linger on his back. She’d always been drawn to it, the way his muscles rippled under his shirt, how his strength radiated out from his shoulders and arms and cradled her like a treasure. Now she wonders if it was ever really meant for her, and she hates that maybe most of all.

He’s so quiet when he leaves that she barely hears the door close or the slick of the lock as Oliver turns it into place. She gives herself a few moments to feel the loss and weakness again, and then another few to forgive herself for it.

When she’s ready, she deliberately places her phone on the nightstand, screen down, and turns off the lamp. She pulls one of the pillows out from behind her back and hugs it to her side, closing her eyes against the darkness.

She sleeps alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this is loosely inspired by that scene in Gilmore Girls in which Lorelai calls Luke to come over after their break up, because he’s her best friend. I love that scene, despite how sad it is, because Luke did come (and I know the Oliver we love would too).


	8. Au Revoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he straightens, she squeezes his forearm, like she’s reinforcing a connection before she lets go. And even though her head is still bowed, and he can’t see her face, he’s so grateful - so utterly grateful - because maybe it means that this is a retreat, and not a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief re-imagining of that final scene. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

The door closes quietly behind her, and for a long moment all Oliver can do is stare at the empty space where her wheelchair had been.

He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he moves from this spot what had just happened (he can’t name it, can’t possibly put words to it), would be real. The black waters in his chest would increase into something he couldn’t ignore or numb, and he can’t deal with that yet.

Or at least he thinks he can’t, right up until he hears Felicity voice call out to him shakily from the hallway.

He’s away from the table and through the door before he blink, because there is both happiness in knowing she’s still there, and terror in not knowing what he’ll find. When he reaches her, he can hardly believe what he sees: Felicity, half-standing out of her wheelchair.

Her legs are visibly shaking, and she’s holding on to the chair for balance, but she’s _standing._ It’s enough to overtake every other emotion in that moment - all of the pressure in his lungs, the red splotches around her eyes - it all fades away at the sight of her, melting into awe.

He lets himself feel the awe and joy and pride for one, two, three beats. When he starts to get overwhelmed, he moves - a short, hesitant step toward her, because he can’t just reach out for her, not without potentially hurting her.

“I need to-” He has to stop, and clear the hoarseness out of his voice. “Can I...can I hug you?”

Her face collapses immediately. “ _Please_.” And she half-walks, half-falls into him.

He catches her (of course, he will always catch her), and gathers her up. He holds her as close as he possibly can, feels her hands clench against his back.

“Oh my god,” she whispers against his chest, and it’s thick with surprise, but also with a kind of anguish. _I wanted to be able to walk down the aisle on our wedding day._

It makes him tighten his arms around her. Her blonde hair falls down over his arm, a caress he can barely handle. He has to form steady breaths with her, because if he doesn’t, that’s it. All those black waters will come bubbling up, and he can’t do that to her, not now.

Instead, he pulls back. “I love you. I’m so-” he breaks, just for a second. He can’t help it. “I’m so happy for you.”

And he is. _I’m here for you. I’ll be here. I love you._ He hopes she hears it.

She nods, head down, sniffling. He holds her gently as she walks unsteadily to sit back in her chair. When she’s settled, he turns, presses his palms against his eyes, and then presses the elevator button for her. He leans down to pick up the duffle bag that had fallen to the hallway floor and then places it back in her lap.

As he straightens, she squeezes his forearm, like she’s reinforcing a connection before she lets go. And even though her head is still bowed, and he can’t see her face, he’s so grateful - so utterly grateful - because maybe it means that this is a retreat, and not a goodbye.

It gives him the strength to watch her glide into the elevator, to watch the doors close behind her back. It gives him the strength to walk back into the loft without her, to put away the engagement ring. 

He can believe that this is all temporary, that he can be better. It gives him the strength to believe that they’ll come back together when he is. _This is a retreat, not a goodbye._


	9. light and life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you before that there is a balance, an opposite to Darhk’s power. You were right when you said she brought the light to you, Mr. Queen. Light and life are what will defeat Damien Darhk now, and she has more of both than you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short speculation fic for the finale. I know that this is highly improbable, but I like the idea. XD

As final confrontations with Darhk went, this is not what Oliver had been expecting.

They stood in the center of the Ark, surrounding Felicity like a pack of protective wolves. Oliver, Diggle, Lyla, even Lance all had their weapons drawn and ready in front of her, and Thea stood defensively just to Felicity’s side, coiled and ready to strike.

All of this might have seemed typical, except Felicity wasn't supposed to be there at all. One minute she was at the lair, listening as they confronted Darhk, and the next she was there with them, as were Fortuna and Constantine. Constantine looked as rumpled as ever, and Fortuna stood out in an elegant, sparkling black dress, not unlike the one she'd been wearing the last time he and Felicity had seen her.

Most bizarrely, it was like their group was in a bubble, where everything outside them had frozen. Darhk and his men stood like statues, posed as they'd been before Felicity and the others appeared.

Tense at being exposed in the middle of the street, and confused at the turn of events, Oliver’s anxiety translated into anger. “What the hell is going on?” he asked Constantine.

The man just shrugged, looking cool but just as confused. “Damned if I know, mate,” he replied, walking around the frozen Darhk. “But this is quite the party you've got going here.”

“What do you mean you don't know? And why did you bring Felicity here?” Diggle asked harshly, turning to look at Felicity and frowning. “Felicity?”

She didn't reply. In fact, she seemed as frozen as Darhk and the others. Alarmed, Oliver moved to reach her.

“Don’t! Don't touch her yet,” Fortuna cautioned, studying Felicity intensely. “Trust me, Mr. Queen,” she said, sounding strangely impressed.

“We didn't bring her here, Oliver. I think _she_ summoned _us_ ,” Constantine said.

“I'm sorry, _what_?” Lance interjected.

A bolt of fear went through Oliver. “That's not possible.”

Constantine sauntered over next to Fortuna. “It's more than possible, friend.”

“Apparently my lessons were meant for a different student,” Fortuna said to Constantine, as if in passing. She didn't take her eyes off Felicity, hovering a hand over Felicity’s face and down over her torso and stomach. 

Finally, she turned to Oliver. “I told you before that there is a balance, an opposite to Darhk’s power. You were right when you said she brought the light to you, Mr. Queen. Light and life are what will defeat Damien Darhk now, and she has more of both than you know.”

Oliver shook his head in frustration, and his bow creaked as his grip tightened around it. “I don't understand. I thought a totem was needed - Darhk’s idol, my tattoo. She doesn't have a totem.”

“Actually, she does, mate. You gave it to her,” Constantine said, uncharacteristically gentle. “Congratulations on your reconciliation, by the way.”

Oliver met Diggle’s stunned eyes - they hadn't told anyone that they were back together. But it wasn't so new that Oliver didn't understand what Constantine meant.

Diggle seemed to get it around the same time Oliver did. “Oh hell no.”

“What?” Thea asked, looking between all of them.

“This isn't going to happen,” Oliver gritted out in response.

“What's not going to happen?” Thea asked again.

“This is exactly what _has_ to happen. There is so much power here, and she's the best person to wield it,” Fortuna said. She placed a hand on Felicity’s arm. “Tell him, _amor._ ”

At that, Felicity suddenly took a deep breath, like she was coming back to life, and turned to Oliver with a smile. Her eyes glowed brightly, and her voice sounded almost musical. “Oliver.”

In the background, Lance cursed, but Oliver couldn't focus on anything but her. “Felicity,” he said, feeling and sounding broken with fear.

“Everything is going to be fine. I love you.”

Oliver swallowed down the ache in his throat. “I love you too.”

“We don't have much time,” Constantine said lowly, peeking over his shoulder. “They're going to wake up with her.”

“Yes,” Fortuna replied, putting her arm around Felicity’s shoulders. “Time to show them what you can do.”

“ _Oliver_ ,” Diggle growled, taking a step forward.

Oliver gave one sharp shake of his head, bouncing slightly on his feet to expel some of the anguished energy he felt, to keep himself from moving too. “I don't think we can stop them, Dig.”

Constantine lit a cigarette, and saluted Oliver with it in approval. “Now you're getting it.”

Felicity's smile faded, but she when she held his gaze one last time, she looked no less at peace, no less determined. “I'll see you soon.”

Oliver nodded, and then moved back to cover her as the battle began.


	10. the way your world can alter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beat goes by, filled with discomfort and uncertainty and Felicity deliberately not looking at Oliver as he stares at her. "Does he know where I live?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting back to old stories (including a certain WIP with the initials CALW), and doing some fic clearing to help with the writing process, which means: it's time for some fic amnesty!
> 
> This was originally going to be a much longer fic dealing with Oliver and Felicity's families, but it took me a while to write and thus became too far out from canon to work as a speculation fic. Although I'm sure it's obvious I intended other things for it, it's pretty well-contained and I added an ending of sorts, so hopefully you can still enjoy it!
> 
> Title from First Aid Kit's "The Lion's Roar."

They're halfway through dinner with Diggle and Lyla when there's a knock at the door.

Felicity and Lyla are discussing technical security upgrades for the new lair, and Oliver's pretty sure it's Thea showing up late again (he really has to get her to stop knocking on her own door), so he's the one to answer the door.

He's surprised, but not really worried, when he opens it to find a dark-haired young man waiting in the hallway.

The man is too tall and filled out to be a teenager, but there's a nervous air about him that makes him seem a lot younger than the early twenties he probably is.

"Uh," the kid says, looking thrown off by the sight of Oliver. "I'm looking for Felicity Smoak?"

It's not odd for Felicity to get visitors, even at night (she is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, after all), and it's not like the kid is a threat, but something about the way he asks - like he's bracing for a blow - sets Oliver's teeth on edge.

As if on cue, Felicity appears from just around the corner of the kitchen. "Did I hear my name?" She asks, smiling, but when she sees the kid at the door, her smile falls. "Oh."

She starts to wring her hands, something he's only seen her do a few times when she's upset and trying to hide it, and Oliver feels tension shoot up his back and into his shoulders.

For his part, the kid starts to shift uncomfortably. "You know who I am?"

Felicity nods once. Her face is blank but her eyes are uncharacteristically hard. "Yes."

Confusion fills Oliver's mind, but he tries not to let it show on his face. The dynamic is off here, and he doesn't like it.

The kid clears his throat. "Right," and glances quickly at Oliver and then away again. "I'm sorry, you're busy. I can, uh…I'll just come back later."

"August," Felicity calls as the kid turns away, and he seems almost startled to hear his name.

A beat goes by, filled with discomfort and uncertainty and Felicity deliberately not looking at Oliver as he stares at her. "Does he know where I live?"

Clearly, the kid - August - knows who 'he' is, if the slight cringe Felicity's question brings is any indication. "No, but other people do. Your mother too. I thought about calling to warn her, but then I figured you would want to do that."

"Thank you," Felicity replies, not sounding all that grateful.

"Yeah," August replies, looking resigned and suddenly tired. "Okay."

This time when he goes to leave, nobody stops him.

The doorknob is still in Oliver's hand, and by the time he closes it and turns, Felicity is already heading around the corner to the kitchen. Oliver takes few long strides after her. "Who was that?"

As he comes to the table, Felicity is picking up dishes and taking them to sink around a surprised-looking Diggle and Lyla. She starts scraping food they haven't finished into the garbage disposal, and that only increases the sense of foreboding that Oliver feels, because she only cleans like this after bad things have happened.

"Felicity," he says, voice hard and trying to get her to look at him. "Who was that?"

She's got a sponge now, scrubbing away at a dish that is already mostly clean now. "That was my half-brother." She doesn't look up.

"You…" Oliver shifts on his feet, preparing for a fight he doesn't want and knows he shouldn't have. "You have a brother?"

Diggle stands from the table, looking between the two awkwardly. "I think maybe we should get going."

Lyla follows Diggle from the table, until Felicity calls them to stop. "Don't. It's fine, we can have dessert."

Diggle freezes, looking so uncomfortable, so much like a deer in headlights, that Oliver would laugh if he didn't feel like something was unraveling between himself and Felicity right there in their kitchen.

" _Felicity_ ," Oliver grits out, stunned at her admission and starting to get a little angry. "We're not having dessert right now."

"Yes, we are. You made pie. From scratch. We're all going to sit down and eat pie and it'll be delicious."

Her voice wobbles, and he's stepping forward on instinct, wanting to comfort her.

When she flinches away from him, the spark of anger in his chest ignites fully. " _Stop_. Just stop."

"Oliver," Lyla speaks up gently behind him. "Why don't we take a break?"

Finally, Felicity stops cleaning, and the plate clatters into the sink. Her eyes are red-rimmed when she looks up. "What do you want me to say, Oliver?"

"I want you to tell me what is going on," he's not yelling, but he's close. There's something happening here, something to fear, and his anger feeds on it.

"Nothing. I have a half-brother. A half-sister too, actually, but I've never spoken to either of them until now." She says, looking somewhere just to the side of him. "There's nothing to tell."

All he can do is shake his head incredulously. "How is that…" He has to take a deep breath. "How could you not tell me that you have other family?"

Suddenly she looks him in the eye. "I don't know, Oliver. How could you not tell me about yours?" Her voice is very, very even.

Oliver's stomach drops. Any anger he felt is completely gone - now it's just pure dread, because he's just realized: Felicity knows about William. He doesn't know how she knows, but she does. And what's worse, now she knows that _he_ knows about William.

It's such a convoluted and horrible mess that he's rooted to the floor, unable to reply.

Felicity seems to take his silence for what it essentially is, which is guilt. "Right," she says, drying her hands on a towel and throwing it onto the counter. "I need a minute."

She goes upstairs, leaving him standing in the kitchen with Lyla and Diggle, and at a total loss for what he should do next. As open as the loft is, it's starting to feel like it's closing in on him, so he retreats without a word to the balcony.

He stands and stares out at the city for a long while, and then at his hands for longer resting on the balcony rail, fighting the anxiety growing in his chest. It feels like a lifetime has passed when the door behind him opens.

"Hey," Felicity says, and as scared as he is, it's surpassed by the immense relief he feels.

"Hey," he replies. "I was afraid you'd leave."

"I couldn't. Not without some of that pie," she jokes weakly. She looks guarded, and not a little sad. She's wrapped in a blanket that makes her look small and vulnerable, and he hates it.

She looks over her shoulder. "John and Lyla are still here. I think they want to make sure we don't kill each other."

He knows she's joking, but it still stings that she says it. "I could never hurt you. Not on purpose."

He needs her to know - whatever damage he's done, it wasn't intentional.

Her face softens a little. "I know that, Oliver." She blows out a breath. "Why don't we start over."

He nods. "Okay."

She moves to the railing next to him, speaking to the city below. "My father is…not a good man. He deals with bad people, and there's always a chance one of those people will try to cause trouble through my me and my mom. So I've kept tabs on him."

"How long?" He asks, heart aching for her.

"Off and on since I was a teenager. But I didn't know I had siblings until after I graduated MIT - Noah did a fairly good job of keeping them hidden," she says, bitterly and a little brokenly. "I didn't tell you, because…I don't really think about them. I try not to."

Oliver understands that. He doesn't like it, but he can understand it. "And William?"

She grips her blanket a little tighter. "I keep alerts on your profile, so we know if someone's checking into you. A woman named Samantha Clayton ran a background check on you a few months ago. So I looked into her."

Oliver closes his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. Felicity, I wanted to tell you. I'm so sorry."

"I wanted you to tell me," she says, voice strained. "And I have to believe you would have, eventually. And I can't exactly blame you for something I didn't do either."

"It's not the same thing, Felicity."

"Hey, I’m trying to be understanding here."

He laughs, but there's not much humor in it. "What does this mean for us?" he asks, afraid to look at her.

"I don't know," she says, quietly and frankly. "I think it's obvious we have some things to deal with, and I’m not just talking about how to handle new family members and their complications."

He swallows, but has to nod. She's right, as she usually is. It’s not a good thing that keeping secrets is their default - that had been his parents' relationship, and basically every other relationship he's had. He doesn't want that with Felicity.

Felicity leans a little into his side. "But I think we should try to deal with it together. I mean, I'm game if you are."

He leans back a little, giving the warmth he's receiving back to her. "I am."


	11. all these boxes but none of them will hold me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity wakes up in a hospital, and it is not a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for fic amnesty.
> 
> I started this before 4x09, while we all were speculating that the limo went into the water. However, I can't seem to remember where I was going with it, and it's so alike other fics on the subject that I'm okay with leaving it where it is. So, for all of you who like a bit of angst: enjoy!
> 
> Title from Chris Pureka's "Old Photographs."

Felicity wakes up in a hospital, and it is not a dream.

She could make believe that it is; she's surrounded by her family, her mother and Diggle and Thea and Laurel. They're all so happy to see her alive and healing, joking and coping, and she could let herself believe that all of this is a dream she will wake up from.

If not for Oliver.

He sits quietly and carefully in a chair next to her bed. He looks awful. His hair is unwashed and his face is bruised, he's in wrinkled clothes, leaning over with his arms crossed on her crisp white blanket.

He's barely said a word since she woke, aside from her heartfelt name on his lips, which she doesn't think he meant to say out loud. He hasn't touched her, will barely look her in the eye. He looks reserved and sad and braced, and she knows it is not a dream.

The doctors come and go, and it feels like forever before she can summon up the energy and courage to ask if she can talk to Oliver alone. The others are happy to oblige, thinking she's wanting a reunion away from prying eyes. All save Diggle, who has noticed that something isn't right. He lingers until she gives him a broken smile and he frowns, eyes darting to Oliver, but then he leaves them alone.

Murmurs from the hallway and the beeping of the machines connected to her fill the air. She doesn't want to have this conversation, not lying down and actually not at all, but they're as trapped now as they were in the water.

"They're going to release me tomorrow, as long as there aren't any complications," she says, voice hoarse and chest hurting. She's just repeating what he's already heard, but she doesn't know how else to start this.

He smiles a bit in relief. It's quick, but it's there. "Yeah. That's great."

"I need to-" she stops, clears her throat. She just needs to force the words out. "I’m going to ask John to take me to the loft so that I can get some things. I don't…I don't think you should be there when we go."

If he's there, she won't be able to leave.

Oliver places a hand over his mouth, and she pretends she doesn't hear the anguished sound he tries to hide. He squeezed his eyes shut through a nod.

"I think I'd like to be alone now," she says, trying not to cry (not yet, not yet).

She's staring at the ceiling, so she doesn't have to see the tears on his face or what he looks like when he goes.

All she knows is that he does go, and he doesn't come back.

~*~

Oliver honors her wishes - he's not there when she and Diggle pack up her things.

It's not much - maybe 10 ten boxes, mostly clothes and electronics. Felicity leaves the ring on his bedside table with shaking hands, still feeling weak. She's not sure if it's because of their ordeal in the limo, or because of the ordeal she's living through now.

She almost prefers the water.

They load her things into the team's van, and she tries not to think about the irony of that. Or maybe there's no irony, because it was the team that brought the two of them together, but it's Oliver's lies that are tearing them apart.

When she'd asked Diggle to help her clear out of the loft, he'd looked stricken and confused. She can't blame him - just a few days ago they were happy, and she'd agreed to marry Oliver.

"Is it because of what happened with Darhk?" He'd asked tentatively.

"It's because of a lot of things," she'd said, not knowing what to tell him. Part of her wanted to tell Diggle all of it, so that he could justify her hurt and anger. But another part of her wanted to protect Oliver - the part that loved him deeply, that wanted to pretend that he'd never told her the truth after so many lies. She'll be at war with herself for a long time over him.


	12. top of that mountain we wanted to stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a moment between Diggle and Felicity, addressing some of the issues I had with how they interacted last season, so here’s a short little thing. Could conceivably be considered a sequel (or at least a companion to) we’re on our way through rugged land (Chapter 2 of this work).
> 
> Title from ‘Stay Gold’ by First Aid Kit.

It takes all the way through dinner with everyone for Diggle to realize that it was a terrible idea.

It’s not Lyla; she’s seated beside him, her hand warm on his leg and steady as ever. Thea is game for any conversation, and Oliver just seems happy that everyone is in one place and one piece. He and Thea have been carrying the conversation all night, Diggle just didn’t notice it until now.

It’s Felicity that makes him pause, who won’t look him in the eye. And now that he thinks about it, he’s been back for a few weeks and she’s yet to really talk to him on her own. She’ll answer him if he asks her a question, but she hasn’t really spoken to him or spent any time with him outside of the lair.

The realization leaves him feeling uneasy and concerned as he watches her. Felicity’s sitting between Lyla and Thea, looking down at her plate, pushing the food around idly. She hasn’t eaten much.

Lyla touches his shoulder as she rises, getting his attention. “I’m going to get dessert. Can you help me clear the table?”

He smiles up at her as he follows. “Absolutely.”

It’s a routine he’s missed, moving with Lyla around their home. They work well together, efficiently, and the normalcy of the chores helps him feel grounded. So do Lyla’s hand on his back as she passes him on her way to the sink to rinse their plates, and how she stands close to put the dishes in the washer. She looks beautiful tonight, and he doesn’t think his heart will ever stop racing when she’s near.

As if she knows what he’s thinking, she smirks up at him and then kisses his cheek, lingering for a second that has him leaning down into her. “You can finish up here, can’t you?”

Diggle hums at her in agreement, and she moves away to prepare the pie they’d bought from a bakery that reopened from down the street. It doesn’t take long to load the dishwasher, and he takes the pie from her while she disposes of the box it came in.

By the time he’s back at the dinner table doling out pie to everyone, Lyla is coming out of the kitchen with a full trash bag, which she sets against the wall by the door.

Felicity looks up and sees it, then gets up. “I’ll take that out.”

Lyla waves at her to sit down as she heads back to her own seat. “Don’t worry about it, John can get it later.”

But Felicity seems eager to get away. “I don’t mind.”

For some reason, it puts his back up. “Felicity, leave it. I’ll get it.”

“It’s fine, I got used to helping while you were gone,” Felicity replies.

 _While you were gone_. It’s an innocent enough statement, but there’s a hardness to her voice that grates on his nerves, and Lyla winces beside him. The atmosphere in the room has become tense, and he sees Oliver and Thea exchange a look out of the corner of his eye.

He’s not sure how they ended up arguing over something as stupid as who will take out the trash, but it feels very much like that’s not the _only_ thing they’re arguing about, and Diggle is completely lost as he rises to go after Felicity.

“Johnny,” Lyla says, a warning tone in her voice that he doesn’t understand.

“I’m just going to go check on her,” he says absently, and follows Felicity out into the hall.

Felicity has already thrown the bag down the chute and is on her way back when he steps out into the hall and closes the door behind him. She slows when she sees him, apparently wary.

That grates too. “Is there something you’d like to talk to me about?” he tries to sound welcoming, cheerful even, but the way her face shuts down tells him he wasn’t successful.

“No,” she says shortly. “Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Really. Did you think I haven’t noticed how you’re avoiding me, or that you just snapped at me in there?”

“I’m sorry, Dig,” she says, not sounding at all sorry, “I’m just tired.”

“I think it’s more like you’re upset with me, and I’d like to know why.”

“You’d like to know why,” she repeats flatly.

“Yes, Felicity, I would,” he replies, exasperated.

She mumbles something he thinks is _I guess we’re doing this now_ and then louder,“Okay, where should I start?” she asks, tapping her foot on the floor in an angry gesture. “Should I start with how _you_ barely spoke to _me_ when Oliver and I broke up? Or with how you shut everyone out after Laurel died? Or with how you left Lyla and Sara here to go play G.I. Joe in Chechnya? Which should I cover first?”

Her words - her body language, even - is so belligerent that Diggle is shocked silent for a moment. But then what she actually said sets in, and he starts to feel an incredulous anger form. “Are you serious? First of all, my relationship with Lyla and Sara is _none of your business_. And if you’re angry because you think I chose Oliver over you-”

She cuts him, stepping forward suddenly. “That is _not_ what this is about-”

“Laurel hit us all hard, Felicity. And if I recall correctly, you had no problem with letting me shut down over that.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “I know. I apologized for that, and I’m still sorry. But we could have helped each other, I could have helped you, if you’d stayed-”

Her voice is high and thready, and it stabs daggers into him, because he never thought he’d be the kind of man who would make her sound so upset. There is truth to her words, and that makes him angrier - he doesn’t want her to be right. He doesn’t want to think about how things might have been better if he hadn’t run.

“How were you expecting to help me? I know you have abandonment issues because of your father, but I am not your father, and this wasn’t about you.”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, because she flinches. As much as he meant that it wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility to fix him, he knows he said it completely the wrong way. He could have slapped her and hurt her less.

His apartment door opens sharply. “That’s enough,” Oliver quietly but with force. Oliver clearly was listening in - made easier thanks to their raised voices.

“I’m sorry,” Diggle says, chastened. “That’s not what I meant to say.” 

He glances at Oliver briefly, but doesn’t say anything to the man - he feels embarrassed and not a little ashamed. Oliver doesn’t acknowledge him, just looks at Felicity, making sure she’s okay. 

Felicity eyes the floor. “I’m fine, Oliver. You can go back inside.”

Oliver hesitates for a minute, looking between Diggle and Felicity, but then he turns to go back in, sending a hard look at Diggle on his way. Diggle figures he deserves that, so he just accepts it with a nod.

Quiet reigns. Diggle looks at the ceiling, trying to articulate his thoughts better. “There’s nothing you could have done, Felicity. I needed to work it out myself. I needed to leave for me.” He swallowed, dreading the rest. “After Laurel, after...Andy. Felicity, I killed my brother.”

“And I killed thousands of people,” her voice breaks, and it’s all Diggle can do to keep from pulling her into his arms right then. “ _Thousands_ , John. I would have been there for you after Andy. And it’s selfish, God, I know it’s so selfish, but I needed you. I needed you after Oliver, and you weren’t there. And then with the...with the bomb. What I did. I needed you and _you left._ ”

Felicity didn’t have to say the rest: maybe she did have abandonment issues, but that was because she _had_ been abandoned. He knows she felt that people left her, that it was inevitable the people she loved would leave her. They’d had whole conversations about it.

And then he’d gone and left her too.

Remorse clogs his throat, so instead he closes the distance and wraps her up in the best hug he can manage. Her glasses press into his chest uncomfortably while she’s rigid in his arms, but he doesn’t care. He can wait for her this time.

Finally, she shudders, and he knows it’s because she’s crying. She wouldn’t want him calling attention to it, though, so he lets her cry.

When she’s calmer, he kisses the top of her head and lays his chin against her hair. He has to blink over his own stinging eyes. “I can’t apologize, Felicity, because I don’t know if I could have made a different decision. I’m not sure I’m strong enough for that anymore.”

Her arms come up and squeeze him back. “Yes, you are.”

He smiles. “Thank you for that.”

She turns her head, runs a hand under her glasses, but she doesn’t let him go. “Are you back?”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

She sighs. “Good. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I’ll live,” he laughs. And then more seriously, “Are we in the clear?”

She’s silent for awhile, long enough for Diggle to worry that maybe they _aren’t_ okay. Then she burroughs closer to his chest. “Yes, as long you’ll hug me for a little while longer. Five more minutes. You have a lot of time to make up for.”

He tightens his arms around her. “Deal.”


	13. Post-5.01 Dialogue Fic (Quentin & Felicity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin & Felicity dialogue fic (post 5.01)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick one!

“What?! Felicity? What the hell are you doing in my apartment? And what did you just throw on me?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t drink yourself into a coma. Don’t worry, it’s water. That smell is just you.”

“Hey!”

“Get up, let’s go. You’re going to drink this coffee, have an omelet - that you’re going to make, I don’t do cooking - and take a shower. Then you’re going to call my mother and grovel. We also need to fit an AA meeting in there somewhere. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. Up.”

“I’m not going to do anything-”

“Do you think I want to be here right now? I am not a morning person, and I definitely don’t want be helping you hook back up with my mom, yet here I am anyway.”

“-what makes you think you have the right to come in here-”

“Because I happen to care about what happens to you, even if you don’t. You also still have a daughter who does too, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not her.”

“No, I’m not. But if you’d get yourself together, I could be. Now get up. Seriously, you really need that shower.”

“…Fine, fine, hold your horses.”


	14. How the Day Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a moment when Oliver genuinely wonders if he’s dreaming. Felicity is in front of him, looking healthy and so happy, and she’s about to marry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a sappy, schmoopy thing I've written. Not at all sorry. XD
> 
> So this is obviously AU. Just assume that Oliver told Felicity immediately about William like a mature adult about to marry someone does, thus no break ups ever happened.

Oliver waits at the chuppah, trying to contain his own excitement and nervousness.

He wants to be here - has wanted to be here so badly, for what feels like forever - but he’s usually not that great with crowds, even small ones like this one. It’s made up of friends and family, but there’s still a part of him that’s insecure about showing himself in front of them. He can pretend for a while, manage short bursts of charisma and confidence, but he does so much better when Felicity is beside him.

Which is just another reason why he’s impatient to get this ceremony started. They’ve waited long enough.

He grins at Laurel and Thea as they enter. They both look lovely, but Thea especially looks giddy as they take their place to the right of the chuppa. Oliver tilts his head at her in question, but she just winks at him and smiles wider.

It won’t be long now, and Oliver looks down at the end of the aisle, willing Felicity to appear. They don’t have many guests, and Felicity didn’t want to be pushed down the aisle or risk perspiring in her dress by pushing herself too far, so they kept the aisle short. Oliver had made his appreciation of that idea plain; a shorter aisle meant less space between them, less time before he could make her his wife.

She’d rolled her eyes at that during their planning session, saying he was sappy, but she’d kissed him anyway.

He’s smiling slightly over the memory when the murmur of the crowd dies down, and when he looks up and sees Felicity, everything else falls away.

Because there she is, held between Donna and a grinning Diggle, standing at the entrance of the small room they’d booked. She’s _standing_ , gripping her mother and Dig’s hands, looking determined and incredibly beautiful in her lacy cream dress.

The shock at the sight runs through him, and fills his chest with warmth and his eyes with tears.

There’s a moment when Oliver genuinely wonders if he’s dreaming. Felicity is in front of him, looking healthy and so happy, and she’s about to marry him. There’s a moment when his mind supplies all the reasons why this can’t be true, can’t be happening, all the ways in which it might not be happening. She could be dead, or he could have screwed up and lost her, and they wouldn’t have made it to this amazing moment where he’s about to get everything he wants.

He feels the negativity and pain and sadness for that one moment, and then he lets it pass. It’s replaced with love, and optimism, and so much gratitude he’s at risk of breaking down right there under the chuppah before they’ve even gotten started.

It’s a good thing he’s supposed to go down and meet her, because he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself still any longer even if he wasn’t. He goes toward her on legs that suddenly don’t seem that steady, and when he gets to her he steps as close to her as he can, taking her hands in his.

“Hi,” she says, smiling up at him tremulously. Everything about her is stunning - her gleaming hair, her shining eyes, and just the fact that she’s doing what she’s doing.

He shakes his head, shifts on his feet, because he doesn’t have words for how much he loves her right now and he’s trying to keep himself together. “Hi.”

She squeezes his hands. “Sorry for keeping this from you, but I wanted to surprise you,” she says keeping her voice low so only their little group could hear it. “Did it work?’

He laughs through tears. “Yes, it worked,” he manages, “I’m surprised.”

She laughs with him for a second, letting go of one of his hands carefully, minding her balance, and reaches up to wipe his cheeks. He turns his head and kisses her hand and then, because he can’t quite stop himself, leans down and kisses her temple.

“Oh, that’s going to have to wait,” Donna says lightly, not bothering to hide her own tears. “You two have to go get married now.”

Oliver takes a deep breath, grins, and then turns to Diggle.

Dig himself is looking suspiciously bright-eyed, but his voice is steady as he hands Felicity off to Oliver. “You’ve got this, man.”

Oliver nods gratefully back at him. “I do.”

He puts his right arm around Felicity’s back to support her, and uses his left hand to hold hers, and they start together slowly up the aisle. Oliver takes short steps, careful of dress and pace.

They don’t stumble once.

When they stand under the chuppah, the rabbi waits patiently while Diggle brings out white chairs for him and Felicity, and then he and Donna take their places beside the chuppah.

He’s thankful for the chairs, as he can feel her start to shake with fatigue. He helps her lower herself gently into her chair, then turns to find that his is just a little farther away than he’s comfortable with, and drags it over to face her. There’s a sharp whining noise as the feet drag over the floor, drawing chuckles from their audience, but Oliver barely registers it.

His eyes are for Felicity, who is beaming at him as he settles. He reaches over and takes both of her hands in his, which serves as the rabbi’s cue.

“Are you ready to begin?” she asks.

Felicity gives him a quick little nod, smiling brightly, and it transports him back to their first beginning, in an alleyway years ago in the sunshine.

The answer’s obvious: they're ready to begin anything, together.

Not taking his eyes off Felicity, Oliver replies for them both. “Ready.”


	15. Tumblr Prompt: Imagine your OTP...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Imagine your otp gently touching foreheads with half lidded eyes and soft smiles while they gaze lovingly at each other, holding each other’s hands delicately. Now imagine one sneezing and smacking their heads together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so silly. Blame YellowFlicker, she made me do it.

This is how Oliver dies - not from a sword, or a lucky bullet, or one of his own arrows, but from mortification. After sneezing and head-butting his own girlfriend during a romantic moment. And, from the state of her hands under her nose, giving her a nosebleed.

Oh dear god, he doesn’t even know where to start. Does he apologize? Get her a towel and then apologize? Get her a towel and then punch himself in the nose while apologizing? “Felicity-”

She wails out a sound between a sob and a whine, still holding her face, and he stops whatever stupid thing he was going to say, because forget his whole awful life before now, this is the worst thing he’s ever done.

He crouches down in front of her, where she’d landed on their bed. Her shoulders are shaking, and he panics. “God, I am so sorry! I don’t know what happened, I-”

There’s a new sound, and he has to be imagining it. There’s no way he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. “Felicity, are you _laughing_?”

She can’t even seem to speak fully. “Yes,” she says, but it comes out so high and thready and she’s laughing too hard to get any volume.

Flabbergasted. And horrified. Flabbergasted and horrified, that’s how he feels. And maybe a little attacked. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because,” she says, and how is she able to bleed and laugh at him at the same time? “Your face! It’s all scrunchy, and, and-” there another fit of guffawing and she has to get her breath, “ _you sneezed and broke my nose_. On my _face_.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. Nothing in his life has prepared him for this situation. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

She’s almost wailing now, she’s laughing so hard. “I know, I know, that’s what makes it so much worse! You’re me!” There’s a wet snorting sound, and Oliver thought he was past being grossed out by injuries, but apparently he’s not. “Ow, ow! Oh god, stop making me laugh, it hurts.”

He really doesn’t see anything funny about this. “Come on, we need to get you to the doctor.”

That just sets her off again, and seriously, does she have a concussion? How hard did he headbutt her?

She babbles in a nasally voice on their way out the door. “What are we going to tell them? ‘Doctor, her nose failed this city.’”

Jesus.


	16. Because Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver lifted Felicity, intending to move smoothly into their next pose, when he saw that a corner of what he now realized was cover tape had ripped off, revealing a tantalizing view of black, swirly ink high on the inside of her thigh. He very nearly steered them into a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so silly. Drive-by Twitter fic, so unbeta’d. Blame machawicket, she started it.

Oliver lifted Felicity, intending to move smoothly into their next pose, when he saw that a corner of what he now realized was cover tape had ripped off, revealing a tantalizing view of black, swirly ink high on the inside of her thigh.

He very nearly steered them into a wall.

“Oliver! _What_ are you _doing_?”

He slid to a stop and set her gently back on the ice, taking far too much time to make sure they were both steady. Buying time.

“Uh…There’s… a-“ - _say anything except something about the tattoo_ , Oliver’s inner voice ordered- “tattoo.”

Her dark-lined eyes narrowed at him. “A tattoo. You mean my tattoo.”

There was probably no saving this. “Your tape ripped.”

“And your concern for, what, my skincare made you almost crash us? Why were you even looking at my thighs?”

 _Because they exist_ was not a good answer. “Reasons. That seemed very important at the time.”

She pursed her lips at him, glare on maximum. “Oh, well, if there were _reasons_.”

He nodded, refusing to buckle under the heat. “Can we go back to practicing, or do you need a minute to work out your _reasons_?”

“No, yes,” he said, fumbling under her scrutiny. “Definitely, let’s practice.”

She sighed, then reached down to her thigh, seemingly to tear the rest of the tape off.

Oh no. “Please don’t.”

Her eyes flew to the ceiling. “Oliver, what _now_?”

“I just…really don’t think you should take the tape off.”

“Let me guess,” Felicity said, taking a deep breath. “Because reasons?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to imagine his reasons. “Yep.”

“Would you like to share any of them, _partner_?”

She just had to go and remind him of that, didn’t she? Fine. “Because there are at least fifty people in here watching us and I’m wearing a very thin, very tight costume.”

Her face scrunched up in confusion. “What does _that_  have to do with my tattoo— _OH_.”

He tried to look anywhere but at her perfectly pink mouth, rounded with shock. He completely failed.

“Yeah,” he said tightly.

“Okay!” She said, really loudly. “Tape stays on.”

He felt both relieved and kind of tortured. “Thank you.” And back they went to their routine.


End file.
